How to Get Married

I'm in the MRI machine, face down, my tits hanging through a hole in the table. The machine is a giant doughnut, and I am in the hole. Every once in a while, the machine makes a noise so loud I have to wear earplugs.

Below me, a small mirror shows what's in front of me -- not what's below me, but what's at the other end of the MRI doughnut.

I can see my husband in the mirror. He is sitting at the other end of the hole. He is reading a magazine. The magazine is TIME. The headline on the cover reads, "WHY ANXIETY IS GOOD FOR YOU," and the word "anxiety" is in bold.

My husband looks up at me inside the machine, but I can tell by his expression that he doesn't realize I can see him in the mirror. I wonder what my husband is thinking.

We have been married 21 days.

TIP #2: Get Married After Nine Days

We married nine days after our first date. Technically-speaking, our wedding was our fourth date. We met on an online dating site. Our first date was one week later. We spent that weekend together. The following Tuesday, he made me dinner, announced he loved me, and suggested we go to Vegas for the weekend to get married. So, we did.

TIP #3: Get Diagnosed with Cancer

I get the results of the first biopsy while I am shopping at Costco with my husband. We are in the pet food section. This is the first time we have been to Costco together. We have a shopping cart. We are about to load it up with things. We are in the suburbs. This is married life.

"Are you sitting down?" the radiologist on the other end of the line asks.

I am not sitting down. I am standing up. I listen to the radiologist while my husband holds my hand. When the radiologist stops talking, I tell her to repeat everything she has said and hand the phone to my husband. I sit down on a large bag of dog kibble. I put my chin in my hand.

I waited 43 years to get married. We have been married four days. Now, this.

TIP #4: Talk to the Experts

At first, it's not clear what the extent of the problem is. There is very early-stage breast cancer in my right breast, and it is very treatable, but whether or not it has spread or is anywhere else is the question. They will need to do more tests.

In an examination room, the surgical oncologist talks about all the possible options, depending on the outcomes of the tests: a lumpectomy, removing a breast, removing both breasts.

The lid of the red garbage can reads, "BIOHAZARD." The top of the hamper for dirty smocks reads, "SOILED LINEN." The poster on the wall shows a topless woman, half-flayed, her arm lifted over her head, the skin of her right breast peeled back to expose the muscle, the breast tissue, the cancerous cells.

In another examination room, a plastic surgeon shows me photos on his website. All the photos are of women's breasts, and all the women's heads have been chopped off. There are breasts that have been surgically removed, breasts that have been surgically reconstructed, and a breast with a lumpectomy that looks exactly how a physician's assistant said it would: like someone has taken a bite out of it.

TIP #5: Understand the Situation

As a writer, I am best known for writing about porn. Over the years, I have seen many breasts. Porn star breasts. Stripper breasts. Call girl breasts. Fake breasts. Real breasts. Huge breasts. Barely-there breasts. Old breasts. Barely-legal breasts. Breasts that look like teardrops. Breasts that resemble basketballs. A fire-breathing stripper's breasts sprayed with latex to circumnavigate a city law against nudity in a dive bar on the wrong end of Hollywood Boulevard.